


your body drowning in gravity.

by bannerless (seraf)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Established Relationship, Flying Sex, Friends With Benefits, I GUESS.jpg, M/M, Oral Sex, Scars, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Vaginal Sex, flagrant misuse of vast avatar powers, like. an established relationship but its not. romantic? they just hook up sometimes, sort of. sort of falling., trans mike crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/bannerless
Summary: even the inside of mike’s thighs are cool to the touch, and tim can’t lie - he’s a little gratified at the way mike’s shoulders jerk reactively at the contrast, his hands almost burning in comparison. his thumb idly traces over the tendon that connects the hip to the thigh, watches the way it makes mike’s muscles jump, before he slowly runs his fingers down the lichtenberg figure, running his hand over the ridge of mike’s hip and inwards.it feels electric, in a way he can’t put words to.
Relationships: Michael "Mike" Crew/Tim Stoker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 102





	your body drowning in gravity.

**Author's Note:**

> mike n tim are both trans. cock, slit, and hole are used - chests aren't referred to/really touched at all. there is nowhere NEAR enough trans tim fic or any mike crew fic at all. so take this. ive forgotten how to write porn and it shows

the lichtenberg figure winds across mike’s skin, the pale silver-white of scar tissue making it stand out, like - well. like lightning against a dark sky, that sudden and brilliant contrast. there’s something almost _magnetizing_ about it, in the way it twists and splinters - or maybe just in the way one of the branches arches over the jut of mike’s hipbone, to under his waistband, to a few limns arching out along the inside of his thigh. something like an invitation.

he doesn’t realize he’s reaching out until mike has caught his wrist, gripping tightly enough that he can swear for a second he felt his bones rub together. his face is still perfectly calm - although there is something there, in his eyes. it’s dizzy to look at them for too long, but it’s something smug.

‘ _ask,_ ‘ he says, and it’s with the rolling intensity of a summer storm. for a moment, tim meets mike’s eyes. it’s . . . a heady feeling, vertigo mixing with adrenaline mixing with arousal, twisting in his stomach, flooding his body.

it takes him a moment to remember what to say. ‘ can i touch them? i mean, i’m not going to if you don’t want to, of course. they’re just . . . ‘ hypnotizing, almost. pink scar tissue on the edges giving way to a silver-white that almost seems to glow, as though it cracks through the thin veneer of mike’s human appearance, shows the _core_ of him. if there is a line in the sand between being human and being something _more,_ tim thinks it might be writ in fractals.

for a moment, mike’s grip on his wrist doesn’t ease up, sky colored eyes unblinking as he seemingly considered him.

without looking away, without the intensity of that whirling vertigo ever easing up, he lets go of tim’s wrist to discard his shorts off the side of the bed, revealing the entirety of the winding path. over the jut of his hipbone and curling around his thigh, reaching the inside of his thigh. this time, it _is_ an invitation.

even the inside of mike’s thighs are cool to the touch, and tim can’t lie - he’s a _little_ gratified at the way mike’s shoulders jerk reactively at the contrast, his hands almost burning in comparison. his thumb idly traces over the tendon that connects the hip to the thigh, watches the way it makes mike’s muscles jump, before he slowly runs his fingers down the lichtenberg figure, running his hand over the ridge of mike’s hip and inwards.

it feels electric, in a way he can’t put words to.

he rests his hand on the inside of mike’s thigh, comfortable enough just leaving it there, thumb rolling over the shallow valleys in his skin, fingertips creeping up to get a comfortable hold on mike’s leg, but no further, something that sends a flash of annoyance across the avatar’s face. they stay like that for one beat, two, mike giving him the chance to move if he wanted to. tim just gave him a cheerful flash of teeth, hand moving up a little, but not _enough_ to really be touching him.

three beats, and mike’s hand takes his wrist again, pinning it to the bed and leaning over tim, biting his jaw once with a harsh scrape of teeth, as a sort of admonition. ‘ you’re an _awful_ tease when you want to be, ‘ he says, his mouth still close enough to tim’s skin that every other word sends a brush of teeth against him. ‘ do you have anything to say for yourself? ‘

oh, this feels like a trap.

tim is all too happy to walk into it, cheerfully opening his mouth with a quip in return, when mike splays his hand out over tim’s sternum and _drops_ him. and for a moment, there is nothing but the overwhelming pounding of fear-adrenaline-vertigo as his body tries to heave air in through the speed of the fall, only becoming aware of mike’s weight on top of him as he tries to shift.

he feels split between two places, now, caught between the dizzying feeling of wind battering him, stealing the air from his lungs, the words from his mouth, and the way he can still _feel_ mike’s weight over him, the way he can still see the bed, the room, the sharp lines of mike’s body.

he spreads his arms on the bed, feels the wind dragging them back. like putting your arms in the air on a roller coaster, the sheer force of the fall tugging him in different directions, breath still punched out of his chest, wind burning his cheeks a flushed red, even as he can _feel_ mike bite over his throat, feel the way his lips curve into a smile at the way it flutters in tim’s desperate, shallow attempts to breathe in.

at least when he lands, it’s gentle, an abrupt draw back to earth, with the bed beneath him. it still _feels_ as though the world is tipping a little on its axis around him, though, the strangest feeling of floating still lingering in his body. like an afterimage, an aftertaste - like his body is remembering how solid earth feels, but only slowly.

mike _is_ grinning against his throat, biting down once more before pulling back almost lazily, thumb tracing over the bruises-to-be. tim tries to make it not _too_ obvious as he wheezes to get his breath back.

‘ did you want me to answer the question or not? ‘ he asks, raising an eyebrow, and mike snorts.

his hands begin to dip under tim’s waistband, nails gently scraping against tim’s skin as he pulls his boxers down. ‘ you have _such_ a nice mouth, ‘ he says, ‘ and yet _this_ is the kind of shit you use it for. _don’t_ make a quip about what i’d rather you be doing with it, or i swear, i will actually drop you into the vast to think about what you’ve done. ‘

tim pantomimes zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing out the key. he hated to admit it, but mike had been right about him almost saying something to that effect. ‘ are other, unrelated quips alright? i don’t know if i can get through this being dead serious, mike. ‘

mike arches an eyebrow at him. ‘ depends. like what? ‘

tim grins at him, waggling his eyebrows. ‘ just wanted to say you’ve got me _falling_ for you, mike. ‘

the smaller man sits, stony and silent, on tim’s thigh, that one eyebrow raised still, before sliding off the bed entirely in one fluid motion, beginning to walk away. tim scrambles to sit up. ‘ oh, come on, mike, it wasn’t _that_ bad! ‘

‘ i’m just getting my strap. calm _down,_ ‘ mike returns, his voice sounding annoyed, but not _too_ much, as he rummages through a drawer. tim leans back against the pillows, appeased. mike nudges him aside with his knee as he climbs onto the bed, taking tim’s place leaning back against the frame of it.

‘ isn’t sky blue a little cliche? ‘ tim asks, nodding at mike’s cock - it’s a new one. he’s _pretty_ sure he hasn’t seen it before, at least.

mike raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. ‘ you _can_ just _leave_ if you think it’s below your standards. ‘

‘ perish the thought, ‘ tim exclaims, pressing a hand to his chest. ‘ so - what’s the plan? ‘

mike is a small man. not just in a height sense - he’s almost _dramatically_ thin, and tim’d put good money that he barely weighs eighty pounds dripping wet. ( there’s a joke to be made here, he thinks, but he can’t quite put the words together. ) still, despite that, or maybe _because_ of that, it’s undeniably hot that he can pull tim around as though he weighs nothing, his fingertips leaving red imprints on the bones of tim’s hips as he manhandles him into his lap, pulling him close enough that his lips brush for a moment over tim’s sternum, before leaning up and biting down on his collarbone _hard._

tim can’t see his face, given the angle, but he’s pretty fucking sure mike smirks when he yelps at that. bastard. his thumb brushes over tim’s hipbone before his head tips back, leaning comfortably against the pillows. ‘ i want you to ride me, ‘ he says simply enough, hands resting on tim’s thighs, and tim has to blink a few times at the calm stare being levelled at him, unsure if the way his stomach twists now, the roll of _something_ through him that makes his head shaky, makes him lean his weight forwards onto mike - if it’s just a heady feeling or the vertigo mike wears like it’s part of his skin.

he tugs a smile, even as something prickles over him, like the thrill of a rush of wind. ‘ and make me do all the work? for shame, mike. ‘

mike looks unrepentant. ‘ i do all the work most of the time. i think you can manage it, just this once. ‘ even as he speaks, his hand is moving down from atop tim’s thigh, thumb finding tim’s cock and brushing over it almost _painfully_ gently, making tim’s lower half throb, as though missing the touch. his mouth is just a little more dry when he swallows, trying to come up with a quip as mike takes him between the knuckles of his first and middle finger, kneading at him almost hard enough for it to be _too_ much, muscles spasming in tim’s legs.

he can’t help it, the way he ruts against mike’s fingers, just a little, even if it means the avatar’s going to be smirking like a smug piece of - and a jolt runs through his spine, heat spiking through his stomach, making him twitch.

g-d, he’s really off his game. he’s already squirming, something not made any more comfortable by how _bony_ mike’s legs are.

‘ are you saying you _don’t_ want me to fuck you? ‘ mike says, in an idle kind of voice that’s almost conversational, still kneading at tim’s cock for a moment, before sliding two thin fingers further under tim’s hips, dragging them down his slit. when he pulls them back, almost embarrassingly wet, tim knows he’s already lost. ‘ as i said before. you can always just leave. ‘

( it’s part of the game, the back and forth, but tim knows as well that mike is trying to mean it in a genuine way. saying _if you ever want to walk away, i’ll let you. you know that, right? i’m not something to be afraid of, not in these circumstances._ )

tim swallows, watches as mike wraps one lightning-scarred hand around his own cock, idly making the blunt head of it shine with tim’s own slick. it’s . . . definitely getting to him more than it should be. ‘ well. i never said _that._ ‘

_ask._ he can almost hear mike saying it again, in that summer-storm kind of tone he’d used when holding tim’s wrist tight enough to bruise, when he lifts his eyebrows, silent, as though waiting for something.

tim exhales, like it hurts him. ‘ _fiiine._ g-d, you’re petty sometimes, you know. i want you to - can you let me ride you, mike? ‘ he has to admit, it’s an appealling prospect.

mike doesn’t answer him out loud, but the way that he slides two fingers into tim, curling upwards in a way that makes him bite the inside of his cheek hard enough almost to draw blood, is enough of an answer. the _sound_ of mike’s fingers inside of him would be enough to turn him on, if he wasn’t already half-gone, slick and obscene.

_would it be a little cliche to say size doesn’t matter?_ tim wonders idly to himself as he holds onto mike’s forearm with one hand, as though almost trying to push his fingers a little deeper into himself. mike’s hands are - small, but that’s not stopping him, thumb rubbing circles over tim’s cock and fingers crooking inside of him, every so often raking over something that makes tim hiss curses, head dropping to the smaller man’s shoulder. ‘ _fuck,_ mike, ‘ he says, and his breath is ragged in his throat in a way he really wishes he could ascribe to the vast.

mike hums, kissing the hollow of his throat, and scissors his fingers, a feeling like ignition throbbing between his legs that makes him grind down against mike’s hand - and then it’s being pulled back, and tim finds himself unceremonionsly grinding against mike’s thigh, desperate for some kind of relief to the edge he’s been pulled to.

mike grips his hips again and pulls him upwards, _just_ a little, just off his thigh so he’s not close enough to him to grind down. to get any kind of relief.

‘ bastard, ‘ tim mutters, but he can barely put any strength behind the word, instead raising his hips even more, one hand reaching down to position mike’s cock pressed right to his entrance, not yet breaching him, but _close._

and then, not for the first time, mike _drops_ him.

g-d, for a moment tim worries, almost wildly, as he feels the world fall away from him, that mike’ll _actually_ drop him. that he’ll slam down onto mike’s cock at terminal velocity and it’ll split him in half in a completely unsexy way.

no matter how many times mike does it, there’s something _wild_ about falling, about how unreal weightlessness feels, the way his body _shudders_ at the complete nothingness surrounding him, running down his spine like the deepest kind of chill. he is falling, and falling, and falling, and then the walls of the apartment reappear, and his weight shifts down and forwards hard onto mike’s cock, pushing it into him almost mercilessly as he drops his hips to rest on mike’s, a horrible breathless groaning sound wrenched out of him at the feeling, nails digging into mike’s thin shoulders, squirming against his lap, against that sudden feeling of being filled.

‘ _christ,_ mike, ‘ he mumbles, dropping his forehead against the crook of his neck and shoulder. ‘ give a guy some warning next time, will you? ‘ he _feels,_ more than hears, mike’s soft laugh, one of his hands creeping up to stroke through tim’s hair, nails gently scraping at his scalp in a way that in any other context would be relaxing, before his fingers curl, yanking hard enough to snap tim’s head back, nipping a small bite over where his adam’s apple would be, digging his teeth in almost hard enough to draw blood, hand sliding out of tim’s hair to rest on his hip.

‘ maybe, ‘ he says, and he has the audacity to almost sound _cheerful_ about it. mike’s thumb traces the tendon of tim’s hip, the crease of his thigh, inwards, rubbing too-slow circles against his cock. when tim’s hips jerk, rutting down against mike’s strap, it’s less a choice and more a kneejerk reaction, trying to press closer to his hand. ‘ maybe not. ‘

frankly, tim’s not really sure what he expected. a thought occurs to him, and he grins, white teeth a sharp contrast against his brown skin. ‘ you know, you’re an awful tease when you want to be, ‘ he half-sings, mocking mike’s words from earlier. mike snorts at that, which tim considers something of a victory, even as mike’s nails dig into the well-set muscles of his thighs, thrusting _hard_ up into him.

‘ i thought _you_ were supposed to be doing the work, ‘ mike says, even as his fingers dig into the small of tim’s back hard enough to bruise and he rolls his hips up again, tugging tim down against his cock to just grind his hips against him for a moment, bottomed out, leaving tim shivering.

‘ now, hang on, i don’t ever remember actually _agreeing_ to that, ‘ he points out, but he’s already in motion, shifting his legs to give himself a bit more leverage, hands pushing mike’s shoulders back against the headboard. ‘ but i _suppose_ it’s only fair. i’m a gentleman, after all. ‘ and he uses his angle to raise himself off mike’s lap before slowly sinking back down, getting a feeling for the way mike _feels,_ the direction tim needs to tilt his hips to get his head rubbing against something inside of him that makes heat pulse through him.

‘ if you want to switch, i’m not opposed _,_ ‘ mike says, pausing in the way he had been rolling his hips up in minute little motions into the slow drop of tim’s weight. his thin fingertips dance, cool and light, along the edge of tim’s hips, and tim considers it for a moment.

‘ might like that, yeah, ‘ he admits. ‘ it’s been a bit of a rough time at work. ‘

mike snorts. ‘ your fault for choosing a shitty entity to be tied to. ‘ and before tim can protest that none of this was his _fucking_ idea, mike’s hands are finding his, fingertips curling together, and _shifts_ their angle, pushing tim back suddenly.

his back never hits the bed.

there’s a moment where tim flails a little ungracefully at that, he’ll be honest. suddenly going into freefall will do that to you. but mike’s hands, locked in his, stay where they are, and he stays buried in tim, yanking him forwards, kissing the breath out of him, thumb digging into the curve of his throat just hard enough that tim has to gasp, snapping his hips forwards.

one leg hooks behind mike’s back - there’s something _terrifying_ about it, about the idea that if mike let go, if he pulled out, tim could just _fall,_ forever. ( there’s something thrilling about that too, about the way mike’s hips stay locked to his, jerking into him in slight, pressing motions that shoot stars through him. as though he has no intention of letting tim fall alone. )

tim’s breath flutters in his chest. like a bird’s. like a prey animal’s, lungs gasping for air he doesn’t quite have, and he’s not sure whether the stars that swim in the corners of his vision are because of the way the air enters his lungs, in reedy half-swallows, or because of the way that mike shifts, nails finding purchase in the dip of tim’s shoulderblades, hips snapping into him. his nails are blunt, but his grip is strong enough that they dig white-hot trenches of pain down tim’s back, making him writhe breathlessly.

the world around them is blue, blue, and _endless,_ so much so that there’s a dreamlike quality to it. tim can feel something in his mind _bending_ a little, if he tries to take it all in. to comprehend infinity.

so he holds iron-tight to mike’s hips and closes his eyes, focuses on the way the cool air rips over his skin, making him shiver at the stark contrast to the heat in his stomach, the sweat on the back of his neck. he wonders if mike bruises. if he’s human enough to do that. tim’s hands are certainly making a very good effort at it either way, clutching at him, for a moment or two as he presses their hips together - just holding mike there, squirming against the way he fills him. it’s enough of a stretch that it stings, a faint draw of tension in the back of his mind, buried under the thick, curling heat.

coming back out of the fall is always startling, and tim coughs, heaving for breath as he reacclimates himself with being on solid ground, vertigo still making his head spin. mike is merciless, not letting up for tim to recover, one hand slipping between them to roll tim’s cock between his fingers, and tim claws at - he’s not _sure,_ anymore, if it’s the sheets, or mike’s skin, or even just the open air, his head is still swimming with vertigo and arousal and the lack of air, but he’s trying to find purchase on _something._

when he comes, it’s with a sound he didn’t know he _made,_ a strange choked whine of a thing, not enough breath in his chest left to shout. ( mike _drops_ him for the final time as he falls over the edge, making him come while they’re falling, feeling tim shudder apart in an empty sky. it only lasts a second. )

‘ _fuck,_ ‘ he says, hips still jerking up into the aftershocks, even as mike pulls out of him, cock soaked with tim’s arousal. tim notices that his hands are trembling a little as he undoes the straps, forehead wound in a knot of mild frustration. ‘ are you, y’know . . . _supposed_ to use your avatar abilities for this kind of thing? ‘

mike snorts at that, dropping the mess of straps onto the bedside table. ‘ oh, probably not. but i didn’t hear you _complaining._ ‘

‘ you definitely didn’t, ‘ tim agrees, a little hazy. ‘ hey. c’mere. ‘ he rolls onto his stomach a little lazily, hooks one hand around the back of mike’s knee, and tugs him close, arms resting over his thighs. mike might be an eldritch being or whatever, but he still probably only weighs eighty pounds, tops.

mike is . . . trying to look impassive, but tim can see the red flush that still lingers on his face, making his lightning scars stand out even more. can feel the muscles of his thighs jump as tim looks up at him. ‘ can i blow you? ‘ he asks - he’s never really cared much for subtlety. something that makes mike’s eyes roll, but that doesn’t dampen tim’s spirits.

‘ i was beginning to think you weren’t as much of a gentleman as you said, ‘ mike says, one hand curling into tim’s hair, tugging him a little bit closer. ‘ go ahead. ‘ it’s as much of a command as it is an allowance.

tim doesn’t need anything more than that, shifting his arm _under_ mike’s thigh instead to hook it over his shoulder, and spreading him slightly with his other hand, scraping his teeth over the scar where it curls over mike’s hip again. quite literally an invitation, this time. mike’s hand is vice-tight in his hair, jerking up when tim finally drags his tongue over mike’s cock, eyes flicking up to watch him.

mike isn’t human. objectively, it’s just _true._

but tim closes his lips over him and sucks, tongue drifting over mike’s cock, and the way he _shudders,_ a full-body, jerky thing, the way tim can feel his usually-cool skin warmed, either by arousal or just the remainder of tim’s touch, the sharp inhale and the way he grinds up against tim’s mouth - it all seems pretty human to tim.

he’d probably hate the comparison, but - tim thinks he _is_ something like a lightning strike, sometimes. dangerous and rail-thin and all sharp edges. he can almost feel the power that burns under mike’s skin as he nips again at the inside of his thigh, as he drags his tongue over him, tasting his arousal. even the noises he makes are sharp-edged, brief little inhales and cut-off cries as tim drags the faintest scrape of his teeth over his cock.

when he comes, that’s like lightning too, sudden and sharp, crying out as he rolls his hips against tim’s mouth, yanking _hard_ on his hair to pull him a little bit closer. tim keeps lapping at him, gently drawing him through the aftershocks, until there’s another pull on his hair to tug him up, this one gentle, mike smoothing his fingers through it. it’s almost like an apology.

mike keeps smoothing his fingers through tim’s hair as tim sits back up, and it’d be . . . it’d feel nice to just relax into it.

he leans over the bed for a moment to pick up his shirt where it had been discarded, wiping mike’s arousal off his face with it and dropping it again, turning back to see mike looking absolutely revolted. ‘ what? i’ll wash it later, you know. ‘

‘ don’t talk to me, ‘ mike says, disgruntled, shifting to lie back against the pillows. tim laughs under his breath, head resting against mike’s ribs despite the warning. after a long moment, mike’s thin fingers resume brushing through his hair, slow and steady, scritching at his scalp with a put-upon sigh. ‘ you’re lucky i haven’t dropped you off a building by now, ‘ he says, with no venom to it.

tim laughs, shifting his head back to look at him. ‘ i’m pretty sure you just _did!_ like . . . four times! ‘

mike frowns. ‘ that’s _different._ ‘ his hand gently resumes scratching at tim’s scalp. ‘ you know what i mean. ‘

‘ i’m flattered mike, really! you’re starting to fall in love with me, aren’t you? ‘ he sighs theatrically, hand draped across his forehead. ‘ i knew it. it’s inevitable. i’m just cursed like this. ‘ 

mike unceremoniously pushes tim out of his lap. ‘ don’t flatter yourself. ‘

even before his head thumps back against the bed, tim is laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in the middle of an adhd nightmare spiral so please feel free to tell me if its a) coherent and/or b) sexy thx


End file.
